


IX. Getting Back To Nature

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-31
Updated: 2006-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Winter fun - Wincest style. Ninth in the Trust Series.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

GETTING BACK TO NATURE  
By Shorts

Sam pressed his back against the tree, taking a chance as he snuck a look around the rough bark. White plumes drifted around his face as he exhaled, testament to just how cold it was out here. He squinted against the glare bouncing up from the snow covered ground, searching for movement to expose his quarry.

Clenching his fist, he could feel the cold seep through his glove as he tightened his hold on his ammunition. Possible movement to his right caught his attention and he squatted, staring intensely in the direction for confirmation.

A twig snapped, causing him to twist around, losing his balance as he found himself the hunted, instead of the hunter.

“Busted!” yelled Dean, letting fly his snowball in a direct hit to Sam’s face.

Still in the act of recovering from Dean’s sudden appearance, the snowball sent Sam tumbling onto his back into the snow.

“You’re getting sloppy, Sammy,” grinned Dean, standing over Sam sprawled at his feet. “Looks like I win.”

“Damn it, Dean!” snapped Sam, wiping the snow off with one hand, while retaliating with the snowball he held. “Not the face, man! You know it hurts like a son of a bitch when you’re already cold.”

“Sorry,” chuckled Dean, leaning to offer Sam a hand. 

“No, you’re not,” glared Sam, before gripping Dean’s hand in his own and jerking back.

“Oooof!” Dean lost his balance, landing on top of his brother. “What the hell did you do that for?!”

Wrapping his arms and legs around Dean, Sam effectively trapped him. “So I could do this,” said Sam, lifting his head and kissing him. Darting his tongue forward, he slipped between cold lips, into the heavenly heat of Dean’s mouth. A quick reminder of their agreement.

“Oh,” breathed Dean, before ducking his head and capturing Sam’s lips in a harder kiss.

Lost in the sensual exploration of Dean’s tongue, Sam jumped and hollered as ice, cold hands slipped inside his parka and under his layer of shirts to tease his stomach and sides.

With a devilish glint in his eyes, Dean pressed his weight down, shifting until his thigh was firmly against Sam’s groin and started rocking. 

“Okay, I give!” Sam tried to squirm away from Dean’s insistent hands as they made their way up his chest, hiking his parka and shirts upward and exposing his body to the frigid air. He could feel himself harden beneath Dean, despite cold.

Partly warmed by Sam’s chest, Dean moved his hand to zero in on the snap and zipper of Sam’s jeans and slipping between the open fly.

“Not here, Dean,” protested Sam, torn between pulling Dean’s hand away and pushing up into the firm palm that was cupping him and gently squeezing. 

“I won,” panted Dean, thoroughly enjoying himself. “You know the rules. I scored a direct hit first.” Wiggling, he worked his way down Sam’s long body.

“The car is just over there,” said Sam, trying to redirect Dean’s intentions. “It’s got a nice, comfortable back seat . . . argh! . . . and . . . and a heater . . .” Coherent thought short circuited as his erection went from cold air to wet heat.

Suctioning his mouth, Dean flicked his tongue along the entire length of Sam’s erection before sliding off his mouth. “You were saying?”

“Huh?” Sam struggled up, supporting himself on his elbows. He reached down, cupping the back of Dean’s head with his hand to guide him back down.

“That’s what I thought,” smirked Dean, before once again engulfing Sam’s straining erection and swallowing.

“Shit!” Sam arched, thrusting deeper into the wonderful sensation as Dean continued to work his throat. Biting his lip, Sam surrendered to his orgasm as Dean played him with every skill he had learned to push him over the edge.

“My turn,” gasped Dean, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Still recovering, Sam pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Uh uh,” said Dean, when Sam reached for him. “Hands and knees, bro.”

“What?” asked Sam, trying to get his upper brain functions to work again.

“You heard me,” smirked Dean, backing up to give Sam room to maneuver.

Flailing in the snow, Sam turned over, careful to keep his hips well away from the snow covered ground as he was still untucked from his jeans. He braced himself as well as he could in the slick snow, his arms and legs battling the jelly effect of his climax. A shiver traveled up his spine as his jeans were tugged down.

“Damn, I could come from just seeing you like this,” exclaimed Dean, scooting close behind him.

The snap of the plastic lid to the lube had Sam tensing in anticipation to the cold gel. When slick fingers pressed against him, he was surprised by the relative warmth.

“Kept the lube tucked and warm, just for you,” breathed Dean, nuzzling the back of Sam’s neck. His fingers worked their way inside, stretching and slicking the way.

Dropping his head forward, Sam gasped as Dean started to enter him. The token stretching hadn’t completely prepared him to accept the thick girth of Dean’s erection. A slight ache accompanied the burning as he was slowly impaled. He tried to pull away, but his knee slipped. Dean’s firm grip around his waist prevented him from sprawling flat on the ground. 

Dean hissed as he was finally sheathed deep inside Sam, taking a moment to regain his control before slowly retreating.

Sam clenched his hands into fists, nerve endings firing at the slow fucking. It had been his idea of a game of snowball hunting to get them out of the motel room until the roads were safer. He tried to cajole Dean by saying it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time getting into nature, which went over like a lead balloon, It wasn’t until he suggested a wager that the winner got to call the shots that Dean finally agreed. He just hadn’t expected to pay up right then and there.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” grunted Dean, picking up the pace. “Must be the cold.”

Sam tossed loose snow up over his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Act like a sore loser, Sammy, and you’re gonna feel like one,” said Dean, thrusting hard and deep.

Suddenly, Dean’s fist closed around his partially hard erection. The unexpected slide of cold snow trapped between Dean’s hand and his recovering erection had Sam yelping and shoving backward at the same time Dean slammed forward. “Fuck!” His voice pitched high in surprise.

A grunt escaped Dean mixed with breathless laughter. “Oh god, Sammy . . . you scream just like a girl.” The power of his thrusts had Sam scrambling to maintain his balance.

The shocking cold of Dean’s fist had his stomach fluttering and his backside clenching in sympathy. He knew Dean was close as his rhythm started to falter.

Tightening his arm around Sam’s waist, Dean froze, muscles locked as he came. Checking himself, Dean slammed a hand hard on the ground to prevent himself from collapsing on top of Sam.

Sam shuttered as Dean eased out, releasing him from his iron hold. “Jeezus, Dean. You trying to give me frostbite?” Climbing to his feet, he yanked on his jeans, pulling them up over his hips.

“Not just yet,” panted Dean, shifting to his knees. “Turn around and face me.”

Glowering, Sam turned. “Now what?”

“This,” smiled Dean. He once again took Sam into his mouth, suckling the cool flesh.

The sharp contrast of Dean’s hot mouth to the frigid cold had Sam bending over, his hands grappling Dean’s shoulders to maintain his balance. His backside still throbbed with the memory of Dean’s shaft as his hips jerked in time to Dean’s sucking. The intensity of sensations had him hardening and filling Dean’s sinful mouth. 

Humming, Dean hooked his fingers in the waistband of Sam’s jeans and slid them back down. Without missing a beat as he worked his tongue, he trailed his fingers in the snow and slipped them between Sam’s cool asscheeks and pushed them inside.

“Fuck!” Sam’s voice hit the high note again, causing Dean to almost choke as he tried to laugh around the solid flesh slamming down his throat.

Countering Sam’s thrusts with his fingers, Dean swallowed as Sam came. He caught him just as Sam’s knees gave out, guiding him down to sprawl boneless against him.

Minutes ticked by as they regained their wits and breath. Gradually, Sam stirred and struggled to gain his feet, adjusting his clothes.

Dean rose, tucking himself back into his jeans. Sliding an arm around Sam’s waist, he headed back toward the Impala parked just over the rise.

“It’s not a demon that’s gonna kill me,” muttered Sam. “It’s nature.”

“Hey,” said Dean. “This was your idea.” He sputtered as Sam smashed the handful of snow he had hidden in his hand.


End file.
